


Case Work

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Based off of supernaturalimagine: Imagine being part of a secret branch of the real FBI that hunts the supernatural and meeting TFW on the same case.





	

“Hey! Y/N, wait up!”

You turn around to see your supervisor, Helen, waving at you to stop while lightly jogging in her kitten heels. You stop, confused and curious, for her to catch up. Helen pulls you to the side of the hall, her long fingernails digging into your blazer clad arm.

“I got good news. You’re going solo for this mission.” Your eyes light up, excitement and nerves instantaneously mixing, but Helen stops you before you get too ahead of yourself. “It’s not much, just some recon on a pretty vague case, but it’s a start.” She hands you a thin file with all the case details.

“Thank you, Helen!” You whisper so the rest of the supernatural department won’t hear.

“Y/N, don’t mess this up, okay? This may be your first and last chance. My boss doesn’t want you in the field and if anything, anything, goes wrong he will keep you strapped to a desk for the rest of your career.” Helen’s direct tone strikes you. The cheery persona from before is completely taken over, and almost erased, by her unflinching gaze.

“Okay, I won’t.”

Phoenix, Arizona

You pull up to a plain brick house that looks nearly identical to every other one on this street. The only distinguishing feature is its moss green door. For a few moments all you can do is stare at the door in silence. Situations of how to say hello and introduce yourself swim around you. The longer you stay wondering the more your chest tightens and the hotter the back of your neck feels. With one last deep breath you open your SUV door and straighten your crisp white shirt as you approach the door. You hold your head higher with your shoulders stiffly straight as you wait for the owner to answer your knock.

As you start to relax you hear the sound of clopping slippers and immediately tense up. A man in his mid-forties answers the door with a shirt that looks like he grabbed it from his tween son’s closet. It exposes his bulbous belly that hangs low under his equally small shorts. The only thing that actually fit him are the tri-striped flip-flops.

“Who are ya?” The man asks as he idly scratchs under the band of his black shorts.

You flip out your FBI badge with a false department branch written to hide your true sector. “Agent L/N. Mr. Aldo, we heard you were having some problems around your house that may warrant our attention. Do you mind showing me around and explaining your situation?”

The man eyes you up and down with his dull blue eyes before saying, “You look a little young to be an agent..but..I guess they’ll take anyone nowadays.”

Mr. Aldo leads the way inside the tiled house without looking back. You sneer at the back of his uneven, balding head before regaining your stoic expression. Keep it cool. Keep cool.

“Well it should be in your files, but you may not have read it,” Mr. Aldo lightly quips at you, not hiding the snark in either his high tone voice or in his eyes. “these odd stains keep showing up, every day, by three am on every wall and on my furniture.”

The jingle bell door tone vibrates throughout the house. Mr. Aldo huffs before leaving you behind in the living room.

With the middle-aged man distracted you crouch and notice the foul odor that comes off the stains. The stale urine smell is impregnated in the walls and the couch. With a scowl on your face you check to see Mr. Aldo still speaking with whoever was at the door. You walk silently towards the kitchen and notice the toppled pile of beer cans. At that moment a pair of well built, tall men and a man in a tan trench coat come behind Mr. Aldo. The one in the trench coat is still trying to figure out how to flip his badge for it to open and close cleanly.

“I can see why everyone doesn’t trust the FBI. You can’t even keep track of which agents are going where!”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” you begin, giving the two men a knowing look, “I’m new.” You force a coy laugh.

From there Mr. Aldo goes out to point out how he thinks his neighbor is trying to harass him by messing with the lights, changing the thermostat so the house is significantly colder in some rooms than other, and smashing all of his plates.

After two straight hours of chatter and thinly veiled quips at the FBI’s expense, you and the imposters leave the suffocating house back into the dry summer air. The men try to leave but you call to them.

“Follow me. We need to chat about impersonating a federal agent.”

The fifties inspired diner is like a ghost town with even the staff looking as if they are on the brink of death. The three men sit across from you with half full, cold coffee in their mugs.

“Okay, explain yourselves. Why are you pretending to be FBI?” They glance at each other, weighing their options. “Tell me or I will arrest you.” That made their lips move a little easier.

The tallest spoke first. “You probably aren’t going to believe us.”

The shorter man with a five o'clock shadow cuts in. “We hunt monsters.” The other, floppy haired man glares at him before explaining further.

“We’re the Winchesters. I’m Sam, he’s my older brother, Dean. The one on the end is Castiel, he’s an angel.”

You smirk in disbelief. The legendary Winchesters. There is no one in the supernatural task force that doesn’t know them. Now it seems they’ve added a new member to their roster. “Well, nice to meet you, I’m agent L/N. I work for the real FBI in a special division that also catches monsters.”

Sam and Dean share a look of disbelief while Castiel looks unimpressed, but it quickly fades with your next, mocking question, “What do you think about Mr. Aldo’s case? Monster or just a case of an old house with a sleep peeing drunk?”

Dean and Sam say in unison, “Drunk.”

You guys share a rueful laugh before you ask something that has been on your mind since you found out who they were. “Listen, this could be my last ‘case’ so I’d like to, I guess, offer help if you guys ever need it. Like actual clearance and maybe some extra help when things get a little rough. For example, clearing your records.”

The boys look at you skeptically. Dean answers for the all of them, “We’ll see what happens.” Castiel’s eyes never leave your face, his expression is tense and apprehensive until you finally leave the diner.

Just like that you return back to your cramped cubicle in Nebraska. Your anti-climactic first mission a distant memory after ten years. Your company phone vibrates on your fake wood desk. A short message with coordinates from the Winchesters lights up your screen. You race to see Helen in her corner office. Delicately you peek around the ajar frosted glass door. Helen’s desk is a mess of case paperwork and new hire files.

“Director Chase? May I have a word with you?” Even to this day it feels odd to speak so formally for a previous friend turned head honcho.

“Make it quick, Agent L/N.” Stern, professional, and short as always.

“The Winchesters are moving again. This time in Lawrence, Kansas.” You want to say more but hold your tongue when Helen stares you down.

“Why are you still here then? Do you need a refresher on your duties for this operation?”

“No, Ma’am.” Your eyes stay glued to your tattered shoes and worn pant legs, not daring to look too long at Helen just in case it bothers her.

“Tell me what you have to do, just to make sure you got it.” Helen clasps her chubby hands together and leans forward expectantly in her creaky office chair.

“Make friends with the Winchesters, find out what they are planning, and shut them down.”


End file.
